


Witchy business

by scintilla10



Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cats, Dragons, Except the Baby is a Dragon, F/F, Fluff, Magic, Meet-Cute, Trick or Treat: Treat, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintilla10/pseuds/scintilla10
Summary: The new posting for the Witch of the Western Woods is Kari's first job after graduation.The dragon egg that was about to hatch had definitely not been in the job description.
Relationships: Forest Witch/Bookseller
Comments: 19
Kudos: 33
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	Witchy business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roguefaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguefaerie/gifts).



Inheriting another witch’s cottage turned out to be more similar to cleaning out someone’s attic than Kari had anticipated. If she had known, she would have brushed up on her cleaning spells. In retrospect, the time she spent learning the spell to cast a glorious rainbow and gold flower petal bomb for her class’ graduation party had been time inefficiently spent. 

It had been self-cleaning flower petal bomb. She wasn’t a monster. 

Nevertheless, it was remarkably useless in this particular situation.

The former Witch of the Western Woods had obviously not spent a lot of time on cleaning spells either. Or on non-magical cleaning. Kari had arrived only a few weeks ago, and in between getting her bearings, she'd been making her way through several layers of dust and accumulated bric-a-brac that spoke to many years living here.

The cottage was actually a treehouse, suspended high up in a huge old oak. There was a rope ladder up to the treehouse, but Kari didn’t trust it, and so far had used her broomstick to get up and down. The treehouse was made up of two connected platforms. The upper one, which Kari thought would make a very cozy study with its window overlooking the leafy canopy, was a hodgepodge of crates and boxes, disorganized shelves, and piles of old copies of _Witch and Home_ and _Spellcasting Today._

The lower platform had a kitchen that would be greatly improved by fresh curtains and a restocked spice cabinet, as well as a private little nook tucked around the tree’s trunk, which was just the size for a cozy bedroom.

It was what her friends at school would have called _quaint_ in patronizing tones. Many of them had taken corporate spellcasting posts in the city, or had returned to university to attempt the higher-level magic trials. 

Kari thought that she and her green-thumb-spellcasting were more comfortable in the Western Woods.

Well, once the former witch’s stuff had been dealt with.

Midnight had claimed the sunny window ledge from the moment Kari had first wiped off the dust. It was the best spot for an indoor herb garden, but given Midnight's claim, that would obviously be impossible now. Kari was contemplating hanging pots in the window above the sill. 

Midnight was sitting there now, delicately washing his whiskers and ignoring her as she hauled another dusty pile of magazines into the kitchen.

“Good of you to help,” she told him, and sneezed.

“Allergies,” he explained, sniffing in a theatrical way, and moved on to cleaning his white-tipped tail. 

Kari raised her eyebrows. “Hmm,” was all she said.

She’d spend the morning very pleasantly gathering dewy moss and lichen to make into powders for spellcasting. She was enjoying getting to know the Woods, and would much rather be exploring the trails or familiarizing herself with the boundary marking spells or learning some of the local spells. Things related to her actual job.

Not for the first time, she contemplated just dumping the boxes over the treehouse railing. It wasn’t a good idea to treat a witch’s possessions like that, though. Who knew what could be in them.

As if on cue, one of the boxes she’d placed by the hearth moved.

Kari stared at it suspiciously. 

The box moved again, rocking back and forth in a frantic sort of way that seemed to be speeding up.

Midnight stopped washing his tail to watch it.

Kari stepped closer, mentally preparing herself with a basic defense spell. 

It was probably a squirrel, that was all.

“I suppose you’d better open it,” Midnight said, not moving. 

Kari shot him an unamused look. She was, as usual, met with an implacable feline gaze. She opened the box slowly, and then startled as it moved again, more dramatically this time, and toppled over. There was a noise coming from the box now. It sounded — plaintive.

As Kari leaned forward carefully, the small iridescent head of what was unmistakably a baby dragon peeped out from the box. The dragon’s scales were covered in a transparent viscous substance and the dragon looked very put out. 

“Mrrrp,” they said plaintively.

“Oh,” Kari said softly. She’d never seen a baby dragon before. “Hello there.”

“Mmmmrp,” the dragon said, louder now that they had Kari’s attention. “Chhhhriiiik!”

Kari reached out gently with a fresh tea towel and wiped the viscous fluid off of the dragon’s slender head and tiny wings. They wobbled around, hopping back and forth on their feet unsteadily as she cleaned them, mrrp-ing with dissatisfaction.

“There you go,” she said. 

The dragon blinked up at her with bright golden eyes and said “CHRIIIIICK!”

“You needn’t make such a fuss,” Midnight said primly to the dragon. He added, to Kari, “They’re hungry.”

“Yes, of course!” Kari said. She paused. Her education had included botanical spellcasting theory, diplomacy with forest sprites, protection sigils of the ancient enchanted trees, and nurturing the twilight-blooming pink laceling flowers that grew among the treetops. But nothing practical related to dragons. “What do baby dragons eat?” she asked.

Midnight looked affronted. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

"Chriiick!" said the dragon.

Kari offered the dragon cured fish, bread, leftover rice, milk, mushrooms, and acorns to no avail until finally, they deigned to eat cheese from her fingers. They also lapped up water in a little saucer, and then proceeded to curl up on top of the faded red rug by the hearth.

Exhausted and with half the contents of her pantry strewn on the hearth, Kari sat on the floor with a thump.

"Where did you come from?" she said to the dragon, who was snoring surprisingly loudly for such a tiny creature. "Where is your family?"

The dragon didn't respond. Kari tried to imagine how the former witch could have come to have the egg stashed away in a box. Dragons weren't known to be living in the Western Woods, so it seemed unlikely that she could have just found it. Had she bought it? Did she intend to hatch it, or had she thought it was just a keepsake? It had only been because Kari left the egg to warm by the hearth for days that it had hatched.

“This was not in the job description when I accepted this post,” she said, staring at the sleeping dragon.

“A shocking lack of transparency,” Midnight agreed, and sauntered off for his evening prowl.

~~~

None of the books on the cottage's shelves seemed to include a single useful tip for raising a baby dragon. Kari grumpily felt it was an irresponsible oversight on the part of the previous witch. After all, she'd been the one with a dragon egg buried in a mouldy old boxes.

Kari’s attempts to spellcall to her former mentor went unanswered - she had been planning a vacation, so that was not a complete surprise. But Kari was reluctant to take the next step of contacting the Council, especially given that the last time someone had reported dragon contact to them, the dragons had eventually been forced to run away to the Peaks to escape all the obnoxious attention from tabloids. _Spellcasting Today_ had been particularly pernicious.

Kari didn’t need media attention. She needed … A dragon nursery. Or a dragon babysitter. Or a way to contact the dragons in the Peaks to let them know about the newborn. Surely something like that existed?

No one she could reach by spellcall was any use on the subject of dragons. Her friends either wanted to know much dragon scales were worth on the market or whether she was going to bring the dragon back so they could meet one. Her freshman roommate told her all about the academic she was dating who studied reptiles. Her great-aunt promised to send her back issues of _Spellcasting Today_. That was even more unnecessary than it would usually have been, given the piles she already had.

Kari had no idea where to take the dragon where they would be taken care of, and no idea how to care for a baby dragon herself.

“Well, this is a mess,” she muttered, and watched as the dragon breathed in and out, snoring gently, their scales glinting with iridescent rainbow colours in the fading afternoon sunlight. 

~~~

Over the next few days, Kari learned that, in addition to cheese, the dragon liked yogurt, chocolate, apples, and, surprisingly, pencil erasers. She didn’t think the erasers could be good for the digestion, so she carefully rounded up all the stray pencils she could find and locked them in the drawer upstairs.

The dragon also liked to knock over books, chase spiders across the floor, shake and flap their wings in front of the hearth in a way that was very fire hazardy, poke their nose in every nook and cranny of the treehouse, and wind around Kari’s feet at any opportunity. All of this was simultaneously adorable and constant endangerment. Not to mention, Kari was unable to make progress on any of the cleaning projects.

“Are you sure you don’t know anything about dragon rearing?” Kari said hopelessly to Midnight as he watched, unimpressed, as the dragon stalked their own tail in the mirror. They were wobbling a little.

“Certainly not,” Midnight said shortly.

Kari sighed, and stroked Midnight’s silky fur. He allowed this, a small purr rumbling slowly out of him.

“There's a bookstore in town,” Midnight added, eyes slitted with pleasure. “So I’ve heard, anyway.”

Kari gasped. “Alders and ash!” she said. “There must be a book on what to do with a baby dragon. Midnight, you’re a genius!”

“One does appreciate when one’s talents are recognized,” Midnight said, pleased, and purred louder.

~~~

The dragon was very disgruntled at being closed up in a basket. They made such pitiful whining noises that Kari bit her lip and looked helplessly at Midnight. The cat blinked at her. 

“You could try a sleeping spell,” he said in an off-hand way. 

Kari shook her head. “No, no,” she said. “It’s too dangerous. I have no idea how a magical being like a dragon would react to that kind of spell.”

A pitifully sad “mrrpp?” noise came from the basket.

Kari steeled herself. “It’s not very far to the village,” she told the dragon firmly. “And I can’t risk losing you on the broomstick.”

“Cruelty personified,” Midnight said blandly, and he simply twitched his tail when Kari shot him a glare.

~~~

“Welcome to Evergreen Books!” a relentlessly cheerful person said.

The dark-haired young woman beaming at her had deep brown eyes and a slightly crooked nose in her round face. Kari was abruptly conscious of the way her hair tangled in an unflattering way when she rode her broomstick. She was also wearing sturdy and plain working robes, and suddenly couldn't remember if she'd brushed her teeth that morning. She flushed. She hadn’t had a conversation with anyone in person in weeks (other than Midnight), and what with a baby dragon underfoot, she hadn't thought about making a good impression on anyone in town.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” the cheerful bookseller said. 

“Hi,” Kari said, feeling sheepish. “I’m new here.”

“Well, hello and welcome,” the bookseller said. Her eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled, and there was a dimple in her left cheek. She leaned in as though she was about to impart a secret. “We’re most famous for our pumpkin festival in the fall, though I prefer the new moon celebration in midwinter. The best bakery in town is two streets over, and you can’t go wrong with a drink and some music in the pub on the corner.”

She winked, and Kari felt her pulse flutter.

It all sounded very charming and — quaint. She smiled.

“And of course, you’ve already landed in the best place of all,” the bookseller added, waving her hand at the bookshop and grinning. “Lucky me.” She gave Kari a glance that could only be described as flirtatious. “I’m Edda,” she added.

“I’m Kari,” Kari said, only a little breathless.

“What wind swept you into my shop today, Kari?”

“Ah, dragon’s wind?” Kari said, and then grimaced when Edda let out a small, polite laugh. “That is, I’m looking for a book about dragons.”

“Ah!" Edda said. “A novel?”

“More like — how to raise them. Dragons 101, that kind of thing?” Kari said.

“Mrrrrp?” said the basket.

Edda blinked.

“Oh,” Kari said. “Um.”

As though sensing an opening, the dragon began to cry even louder. 

“Mmmmmrrrp!” they wailed. “Chhhhrik!”

Edda’s eyes widened. “Is that … I mean — in there?”

Kari nodded. “But they’re not, um. House-trained.”

“That’s okay,” she said, wide-eyed. Her eyes were bright and she didn’t look away from Kari. “I’d really love to meet them. I mean, if that’s all right.”

“Well, okay,” Kari said, and opened the basket.

~~~

“I’ve always been fascinated by dragons,” Edda said. “Starstruck, really. But I have to be honest — it’s really appalling that no one ever mentions just how _rascally_ they are.”

She stopped to let out a breath and put her hand on her hip. Her face was a little flushed from exertion and she looked very pretty. Kari bit her lip and tried to concentrate on cleaning dragon pee off Edda’s floor. One of her very first priorities next week was to look up a spell for cleaning dragon droppings.

The dragon in question was currently curled up peacefully in a contented post-rampage slumber. Occasionally they let out little “mrr” snores. Two pencils with half-chewed erasers had been confiscated from their claws. They were outrageously adorable.

The chaos left in their wake in the bookshop was very _not_ adorable.

Kari had apologized countless times during the carnage, and had given up trying to say sorry at this point. Edda didn’t seem angry, though. From the moment the dragon had climbed onto her shoulders to _mrrp_ softly in her ear, she’d been a goner. Never mind that the dragon had used their perch on Edda’s shoulder to launch themselves wildly onto the top of a nearby bookshelf and knock half its contents directly into Edda’s face.

She wasn't even mad about the flower petal bomb spell that Kari had used to distract the dragon from trying to attack the cash register.

“Rascally is one word for them,” Kari said.

Edda paused, and looked at Kari. “You look tired,” she said.

Kari blinked at her, and then flushed. “Oh,” she said. “Well, you know. Newborns.” She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the dragon.

“I think you could use a nice cup of tea and a sit-down,” Edda said briskly. “I might as well close up early anyway.” She flashed that dimply smile. “Come on.”

Edda lived upstairs, as it turned out, in a warm and brightly coloured apartment that burst with as many books as the bookshop downstairs.

“More books?” Kari said, despite attempting to not blurt out the most obvious thing possible.

But Edda only smiled at at her and waved her into a cozy chair. By the time she brought Kari a cup of tea, Kari had worked her way to feeling embarrassed about the dragon again.

Edda brushed off her attempts to apologize and sat next to her. The dragon was still snoozing peacefully in the basket. Kari would have to make sure they got something to eat before she headed back. Maybe she could invite Edda for dinner at that pub she had mentioned? Her heart fluttered a little at the idea. She didn’t particularly want to leave Edda’s company.

Edda didn’t look inclined to kick her out anytime soon. She asked Kari about discovering the dragon. Then she asked what brought her to the area, and then a series of interested questions about the witch’s treehouse. Before long Kari was telling her about lichen, forest sprites, and twilight-blooming pink laceling flowers, and Edda didn’t look the least bit bored.

After Edda told a funny story about foaming ginger beer at last year’s new moon celebration, they both fell silent. Edda looked up at her, suddenly more serious.

“So,” she said. “I’ve heard that people come looking for dragons.”

Kari bit her lip, and cast a glance at the basket. _Spellcasting Today._ But maybe others, too. 

“Yes," she said. "I’d like to protect them from that. And maybe help them get to the Peaks, if that’s where their family is.”

Edda was still watching her evenly, though her expression had softened a little. “And for now?”

“Well, they need a home,” Kari said firmly. “And I’m the home they’ve got.”

“Well, you’ve got me, too,” Edda said, and she looked a little shy for the first time since Kari had met her. “If you want my help.”

“Oh,” Kari said eagerly. “Yes. Please.”

“In the summer, I’m visiting my sister in the Peaks,” Edda added, smiling. “Perhaps we could take the journey together.”

Kari, who had been imagining a long cold journey on her broom was suddenly struck by the idea of Edda on the broom in front of her, snugged up close against Kari, with Kari’s arms around her. She flushed.

“Oh,” she said. “That would be — amazing.”

“We’ll start with this,” Edda added, and handed Kari a book with a blue cover with embossed lettering that said _Dragon Rearing for Fun and Profit._

“Oh, thank the ashes and alders,” Kari said, clasping it to her chest. “I could kiss you. _Thank you._ ”

Edda looked a little pink. “I thought we could start by making a list of everything you need.”

Kari had always been more of a do-er than a list-maker, but she thought she might fall down and kiss Edda’s list-making fingertips for her help. 

She should probably face the fact that she just wanted to kiss Edda.

“Yes,” she said firmly, “and then you have to let me take you to dinner.”

“Mmrrrrrrpp?” said the dragon.

“Dinner with both of us,” Kari modified.

Edda was smiling at her in a dazzling way, and Kari couldn’t help smiling back. When they stood up, she brushed her fingers against Edda’s and Edda twined their hands together. 

After dinner, Kari thought, she was going to ask Edda if she could kiss her, and then she was going to pack the cutest iridescent troublemaker in the world back into their basket for a cold flight back to their treehouse. Midnight was going to be annoyed that they had been out so late — she’d bring some fish from the pub back for him. She thought he might like the idea of a trip to the Peaks in the summer. She was going to have to fix up the rope ladder if she might be having visitors — or maybe she should make an even sturdier way to get up to the treehouse.

Edda opened the bookshop door and they stepped together into the street. The wind was coming from the west and Kari could smell her forest on the wind: the ancient trees, leafy ferns and bristling thorns, and the magic of things growing in the earth.

She was the Witch of the Western Woods. She lived in a quaint treehouse near a small town with a pub and a bookshop. Her familiar was a bit of a supercilious know-it-all, but he purred when she pet him. There was a newborn dragon under her protection, and a pretty woman holding her hand. This was where she was meant to be. 


End file.
